The Wall
by snugsbunnyfluff
Summary: In order for Kili to complete a ritual, he must face...The Wall
_Disclaimer: I don't own anything and am very sorry for my defiling of all characters from Tolkien's and Peter Jackson' respective works_

 _Proofread by Raven_

 **The Wall**

It was time!

Autumn was coming to an end, Durin's day would be here soon, and Mother would be busy preparing for the celebration. This time, he would help. He would be big enough to help hang decorations and other stuff he wasn't quite sure of, but was convinced happened when expecting a big party.

Walking into the family room, Kíli paused glancing around, before making his way to The Wall.

He stopped in front of it, staring at it, observing carefully every mark. Raising a hand he traced his finger over each gouge, from down low to up high.

Taking a big breath, he moved forward, turned around and stepped back, resting on The Wall.

He lifted his hand to the top of his head and tried to find one of the marks. He patted around, walked his fingers up the wall, slid the back of his hand over the painted surface.

He slouched, still searching for that elusive mark, but could find nothing.

Turning around, squashing his nose against the stubbly surface he tried again, he looked across from him, rolling his forehead on the wall eyeballing a higher mark.

Slumping in defeat, he stepped back.

"What are you doing?" Fíli walked in, slinging his pack and coat to the floor in the doorway.

"Nothin'" Kíli mumbled giving The Wall a little kick, sure the stone barrier was lying to him, or maybe it had eaten one of the gouges.

Kíli perked up, "Do these come off?" he questioned his brother, seriously, pointing at The Wall.

"Of course, they can't," Fíli chuckled, ruffling Kíli's hair.

"Oh."

"Why?" Fíli walked to The Wall, splaying against it and placing his finger above his head, he whirled around, nodding happily at where his finger was.

"Durin's Day is nearly here and Uncle Thorin is busy. Father…"

Kíli drifted off at the reminder that his Father would never do this anymore, despite it being a ritual every year since Fíli could walk.

Fíli rubbed his chin, "Wait here," he said with knowing authority and headed off somewhere deeper in the house.

Kíli looked around the silent room, his Father's armchair threadbare and faded still sat in the corner under an oil lamp hung from the ceiling. No one sat on it now, well, except for Kíli when no one was around. It made it feel like Father was still there. Sometimes, when he slid into the seat, the cushion sinking beneath his little bottom, his feet swinging above the floor, he would hear his father's booming laugh, imagine his Mother's smile.

Flopping back against The Wall, Kíli waited impatiently, scuffing his boot along the marred floor. Tracing the grain and knots in the wood, finding patterns he'd never seen before.

Fíli finally returned, a long, shiny dagger in his hand. It was the one Father always used.

"Stand straight." Kíli obeyed his older brother, back flat against The Wall, heels touching the skirting, he breathed in deeply, thinking that would make a difference.

Fíli raised the knife above his head, moving it against the wall.

"What are you doing?" the quiet question had both dwarflings jumping, and Fíli pulled his hand back before he could harm his brother's scalp.

Fíli quickly tucked the blade behind his back, "Nothing Uncle Thorin," he snapped quickly.

"You have a knife, Fíli," Uncle Thorin stepped closer inspecting them both.

"It was Father's, I was only using it to—"

"It does not matter, you both know you should not have it."

"I just wanted to…" Kíli started, but his eyes filled with tears, and his short puffing breaths stole any more words.

"It was my idea, Uncle Thorin," Fíli spoke, standing straight, shielding his baby brother, carefully hiding the knife behind his back.

Thorin walked over, pointedly looking at the pack and coat on the floor, "Your Mother does not approve of untidiness, you know better."

He held out his hand and Fíli hung his head, sighing as he handed the knife over, hilt first. He made his way slowly to the door under Uncle Thorin's stern gaze, grabbing his things, and tossing a little look at his brother before slouching away.

Kíli stared at the floor, an occasional fist coming up to wipe at tears.

"You know Fíli and you should not be playing with knives."

Kíli nodded, taking in a huge sniff that lurched his little body.

"Stand straight, Kíli," Uncle Thorin commanded and he had to obey. He lifted his head. Uncle Thorin, the knife tucked into his belt, reached for his arms, and began shifting Kíli back, so he rested against The Wall.

Kíli looked up, Uncle Thorin had that warm smile, like his Mother's, turning up his lips. When Kíli was positioned just so, Uncle Thorin drew the knife and with careful strokes gouged a line into the wall.

Pulling him forward with a quick ruffle to his hair to shake the dust free, Uncle Thorin smiled wider, declaring triumphantly, "Kíli, you've grown."

He shot around to The Wall, hand reaching out intently, slipping the tip of his chubby finger into the scrape. He looked at the deep line below it. He'd grown so much in one year.

"Kíli, it's time to wash up for dinner." Dís stood in the doorway, looking at her youngest, her eyes followed as he ran grinning from the room, shouting for Fíli.

Approaching the wall, Dís stared at the fresh mark, and she tilted her head, "Kíli is not that tall."

Thorin shrugged, "He'll likely beat that next year, so no harm done."

Dís let go of a small laugh, shaking her head at her older brother, "Well, a few more years of you 'doing no harm' and he'll think he's taller than you."

Thorin bowed his head, suitably rebuked for his actions, though not looking one bit sorry.

Dís headed for the door, Thorin following as she quipped, "I should send you to bed with no supper."

Fíli and Kíli stopped what they were doing as the thunderous boom of laughter echoed through the house, smiling at each other as they remembered another laugh, similar, but louder. They swallowed the emotion, both feeling that everything was going to be okay, not perfect as it had been, but it was very close.


End file.
